


Many Are Those Who Wander In Sin

by callmecasandra



Series: Transfigurations [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ambiguous Inquisitor, Caning, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lyrium Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmecasandra/pseuds/callmecasandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Many are those who wander in sin,</i><br/><i>Despairing that they are lost forever,</i><br/><i>But the one who repents, who has faith...</i><br/>Transfigurations 10:1</p>
<hr/>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <b>"This is foolish, and you are wilful, and were you still a Templar and I a Seeker,<br/></b><br/>I assure you, I would be taking you in hand most firmly."<br/></p>
</div> <p>Cullen struggles to overcome more than his addiction to lyrium, and Cassandra is duty-bound to help him.</p>
<p>She has sworn to watch him, but when he refuses to report his decision to the inquisitor, Cassandra is forced to take action. </p>
<p>Reference to torture refers to events in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many Are Those Who Wander In Sin

“Commander. You are being completely unreasonable. Irresponsible,” Cassandra says, stabbing the desk with a gloved finger. She can hear her volume starting to climb; she reins it in. Shouting will not help. “You are acting like a child.”

The noise Cullen makes does nothing to dissuade her of her assessment. “There is no reason to draw the inquisitor into this. She has more than enough to do without watching me. You are more than capable of deciding –“

The rant, again. She tires of it, visibly so, cutting him off with a wave. “That argument worked before we made her the inquisitor, before you became _her_ general. It is completely unacceptable to keep it from her, now, and you should know that.”

Cullen rears as if slapped. Cassandra cannot say she is never tempted. “Then you think my judgement is _already_ compromised.”

Cassandra’s eyes roll. “No. Not by the withdrawal of lyrium, at any rate. By your _pride_. Stupid, stubborn, _selfish_ pride, Commander. The kind that is a sin, and rightly so. This is foolish, and you are wilful, and were you still a Templar and I a Seeker, I assure you, I would be taking you in hand most firmly,” she tells him.

“I was the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall!” Cullen says, aghast.

“I did not say I would do it before your men,” Cassandra assures him, voice perfectly steady as she stares him down. “But I most certainly would do it.”

Cullen rubs his forehead, sighing. When his hand drops to his side, his pose is a little more military, though he closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath before opening them again. “Alright,” he says, quietly.

“You will tell her?” Cassandra asks, sceptical that she has won. Cullen is every bit as stubborn as she is.

“ _No_ ,” Cullen says sharply, then, slower and somehow even more stiff-necked, “but I said that I would submit to your judgement. And so I shall. Seeker.”

“You would rather that I beat you than tell the inquisitor that you are no longer taking lyrium,” Cassandra says, incredulous. “Despite the fact that it has been months. Despite the fact that there are contingencies in place should they be necessary.”

“Yes,” Cullen says, and she believes he means it. This is not bravado, thinking she will not dare.

She shakes her head. “I will not simply let go of this. This is not some sort of… coin you can offer me to silence my protests, or placate my frustrations.”

“No,” Cullen agrees, soberly.

Very well. If he is so stubbornly in need of correction, so be it. She has known that mood herself, though she was a damn sight younger than Cullen when last she pushed things to _this_ state of affairs. She points. “Then lower your trousers and bend over your desk, Commander.” He looks faintly scandalised, now. “Commander. If I would not beat you before your men at the Gallows, what makes you believe I would do it here?” Cassandra asks.

“I am not a child!” he protests.

“You’re behaving like one. Besides. Imprudent as you have insisted on being, I certainly hope to have it hand before it merits actual lashes, Commander. This is surely unpleasant enough already.”

There is a moment of silent digestion, before, “There isn’t even anything here you can use,” is rather feebly deputised into the argument.

Cassandra lifts the long pointer Cullen uses for the papers on his walls, during meetings. “This is perfectly adequate to the task.”

“That’s – mine!” Cullen adds, apparently at a loss for a better argument.

Cassandra is only mildly sympathetic, and not nearly enough to put it down. “If I have to traipse all over Skyhold looking for something to beat you with, I may as well parade you out to the training yard and whip you there.”

Cullen apparently accepts this, for he shirks his tunic, and clears a narrow space on his desk in silence. Cassandra is surprised – the longer it goes on, the quieter he is about it; hot anger might carry you through on a wave of battle-rage, or sense of righteousness. This is neither. He is calm. Collected. Cooler heads ought prevail. And yet.

Here they are.

With Cullen loosening the fastenings of his trousers; he finally falters when it comes time to push them down, but he follows through, his small clothes following quickly without the indignity of her prompting, though if he had not, she does not think she would have demanded it.

She has done this before, of course. Not so personally, in a very long time. He is right in one thing; this is a punishment for a much younger man, though she is sincere in wishing to correct the matter without resorting to –

Anyway. She has never had to do it to a friend, before. She puts her hand on the small of his back. To steady herself, more than him, she is quite sure. _He_ is perfectly docile, now, expect for the one thing she requires of him. Behind his back, she shakes her head. “I assure you, this gives me no pleasure.”

There is a pause; she is not sure she does not imagine the swallow. “I understand, Seeker.”

He is subdued and resolute; it was far easier to threaten this when he was simply being prideful and… brazen. But, she is being cruel, now, in dragging it out, and that is not her intention. She lifts the rod, and cracks it across his behind. The exhale is louder than she expected; she thinks he is surprised by the force behind the blow. She frowns sourly. It has been a long time for him, too.

He is quieter, for the second blow, and the third, but his knuckles are white by the sixth, and his breathing harsh despite his attempts to control it, not long after. She can admire the stoicism and strength of will, and even though she wishes he had not forced this, she knows he will not simply give in.

She wants to stop at a dozen, but she cannot. She would not have resorted to this if the matter were not so serious; however much she may wish it were not so, if he continues in this vain, she _will_ have consider relieving him from duty. She may not be able to change his mind, but she can at least impress upon him how severely she believes him to be in the wrong.

She continues through to the end of a second dozen, down his thighs, his pale skin purpling under the onslaught. His face is not entirely dry when she stops. When he does not move, she draws his clothes up for him, gently, though his muscles quiver with the tension released; she does not blame him for not standing immediately.

“You –" he says eventually, then hesitates, frowning.

“Yes?” she asks, wary.

There is a pause before he answers, and then, “Why did you stop?”

“Did you think it insufficient?” Cassandra asks, then wishes she’d phrased it more carefully. Softened her tone. Something. He still has not risen, as if he does not truly believe it is over.

“I – I have not changed my answer,” Cullen says quietly.

Cassandra breathes sharply through her nose. “I did not imagine you had, Commander. You are relieved from duty for the rest of the day, and should consider yourself confined to quarters. You should use the time reflect on whether you would truly allow your pride to get in the way of your duties. I will speak to you again in the morning.”

“And then?”

Cassandra does not know. “I suppose I will try again, once more, to make you see reason.” She does not relish it, neither the discussion, nor how it is likely to end. She can justify trying once more, but after that, she is surely only complicit in his deception.

“Is that the plan then? To beat me daily until I give in?”

“No! If even this is not enough to make you see reason, the dangers of the course you insist on pursuing – then I will have no choice but to relieve you. But I do not believe you to be so far gone. You are stubborn, but I do not think you are incorrigible. I hope some time for reflection will leave you in a more… repentant mood.”

Cullen’s brows draw together, and he looks bewildered. If his face was wet at the end of the beating, he is weeping now, and she begins to wonder if she took it too far. If she is in the wrong, and he is, in fact, no longer fit and she is the one unwilling to see the truth – he sobs, _and still he has not risen_.

“I am sorry, Cullen,” she murmurs, terrified to touch him and make it worse, but anxious to fix things. “I meant to humble you, certainly, to cultivate a – “ _blather_. This is not the time for it. “I did not mean to humiliate you.”

For a heart-stopping moment, he says nothing. “I thought you meant to break me,” he tells her. And then he tells her of his ordeal at Kinloch Hold. Oh – she’d known the gist of it, but not the gory details, nor the deep damage it had done where no one could see: unable to ever fully trust his mind or Maker, and then, after the Gallows, his comrades or superiors.

She is not quite sure how she gets them up the ladder and into his austere room, but when she reaches for elfroot salve, he stops her. “I will consider your words, Seeker,” he tells her seriously.

It may be a dismissal. Cassandra is not certain. But she does not leave until he has fallen asleep, and when she does, she has much to reflect on herself.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am thinking of doing a friends-to-lovers sequel, where Cullen finds that physical 'mortification of the flesh' is an excellent distraction from lyrium withdrawal, and Cassandra goes along with it, initially in a Platonic fashion, and then in an increasingly romantic-femdom way. 
> 
> So if you think you might be interested in that, please comment! Please comment anyway. I love it!


End file.
